Episode 21: What If?
by Castle Season 9
Summary: With the birth of her daughter fast approaching, Beckett gets a taste of what might have been. Season 9, Episode 21.
1. Chapter 1

**What If?**

Season 9, Episode 21

Written by Colie MacKenzie

 _This is a work of fiction by writers with no professional connection to ABC network's Castle. Recognizable characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC. Names, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental._

* * *

"You're still awake? It's two in the morning."

Kate turned her head toward her husband's voice, watched him walk around the bed where she had curled up earlier with one of her favorite paperbacks. He'd been writing, holed up in his office for the last few hours, and he looked tired now, his eyes swollen and his hair disheveled from running his fingers through it in thought.

"Thought you were trying to get some sleep?" he asked. He sat down by her hip, rubbed his hand up and down her spine. Kate hummed, turning into the soothing motion - as much as she could turn in her current, rounded condition.

"I would've liked to," she replied, "except one of us-" She looked down at her belly, ran her hand along the curve of it, brushing her thumb over the spot just below her navel where the bump of a little limb would frequently kick against the surface, "-is using my bladder as a trampoline."

"Hopefully not for much longer." Rick smiled, resting his hand atop hers on her stomach, their fingers interlacing.

"I just want her to come out now," she pleaded, miserable from the mounting discomforts of being full-term, and impatient with the inertia of waiting.

Since the stroke of midnight, it was now officially her due date, and yet Lily showed no signs of wanting to make her debut into the world. Kate's latest checkup had declared both baby and mother strong and healthy (her unexpectedly smooth pregnancy after the physical trauma last year still stunned her doctors, which they weren't remiss at pointing out every time), so there were no reasons to be worried, and she had promised herself to enjoy this time awaiting and preparing for the birth of her baby.

Yet despite knowing that due dates weren't an exact science, the date nevertheless had embedded in her mind like the finish line of this 40-week marathon, and she was exhausted. Now that it had arrived, now that everything was ready for Lily's arrival and there was nothing to do but wait without any idea how long the wait would be, Kate found herself in a perpetual state of restless, nervous limbo.

"I know," Rick murmured, rubbing a hand between her shoulder blades, and Kate burrowed her face into her pillow.

"You coming to bed?"

"Yeah. Just need to go brush my teeth." He untangled his fingers from hers, brushed a quick kiss to her cheek before he got up.

Kate set her book on her nightstand, reached up to turn off the light, and then nestled back into the mattress and curled over on her side, cradling her stomach.

"Come on, Lily," she whispered, smoothing her hand over her skin. "It's time to come out, baby girl. Mommy is so excited to meet you." But her daughter remained stubbornly quiet.

The mattress gave way as Castle sat down on his side of the bed, sliding in under the covers, spooning against her. She slid back, fitting herself into the hollow of his body, and he cradled her belly, their fingers interlocking once more atop her skin.

They fell quiet, and she listened to the hum of the air conditioning and the reassuring rhythm of his breathing.

"I miss my mom."

Rick tightened his hold around her, kissing her head. She missed her mother more than ever. She longed to ask her questions every day, to share the joys and the fears of pregnancy, and to find comfort in her mom's embrace, her wisdom, her laughter. Some days, the thought of having her own daughter without her mother present was unbearable. And Rick knew that. He'd had front-row seats to Kate's pain for years.

"And I've accepted what happened, but that doesn't mean I don't wish she was here with me. So many things would be different..." Kate let the thought trail off into the silence of the bedroom, and Rick stroked her stomach, back and forth, a soothing caress for their baby nestled beneath.

Would she actually be here, like this, she wondered, married to Rick, expecting a baby with him, if her mom were still alive? The mere thought made her shudder, and she pressed herself more snugly into him, tightened her hold around her belly as if to protect them both. She wouldn't want to give up her husband and her baby for anything! But it didn't purge the gnawing question from her mind: If her mother hadn't been killed, would she and Castle have ever met?

And if they had met, would he have found her to be the mystery he thought he would never solve, without the tragic backstory that had formed her into who she was? Without her flashing a Detective's badge at him and sparking the idea of Nikki Heat as his next creative endeavor? If it hadn't been for Nikki Heat, would he have stuck around as long for her, Kate?

What if they had never had any of their story?

* * *

 _September 2009_

"State your name for the record, please."

"Richard Edgar Castle."

"Raise your right hand."

Richard Castle followed the instruction given by the bailiff and held up his right hand.

"Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I do."

"Please be seated."

He sat down, and Kate Beckett rose from her chair. She straightened her suit jacket, ran her palms down her pencil skirt to smooth out any creases and to hide the slight shake of her hands. Her stomach was in knots.

"Mr. Castle." His eyes met hers, his gaze intrigued as he followed her path from behind the desk and toward the witness stand.

He had the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. Her stomach fluttered.

Kate wanted to blame her attack of nerves on his reputation – Richard Castle was a bit of a loose cannon, with a rap sheet to match (and every time, the charges had miraculously been dropped). This was a high profile case, and ADA Beckett didn't like variables she couldn't control. But the truth was – this was Richard freaking Castle. Her favorite author. The whole playboy attitude he had going on, fed to the voracious masses by way of Page 6, had never appealed to her; his words, on the other hand... Something about his books had always spoken to her, grabbed her and didn't let go until the last page had been turned, and she'd often stared at the photo on the back of the book, wondering about the man behind the words that could touch her like this.

And now she had to question him on the stand.

"Please relate to the court the events on the evening of March 9th, 2009."

"I was at the launch party for my last bestseller, _Storm Fall_. You may have heard of it." He turned toward the jury, winking, and they ate it up, chuckling, flirting. One woman blushed furiously. Kate had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes.

"Continue, Mr. Castle," she requested with polite, patient restraint, her lips curving up in a small smile as if she, too, was enamored by Richard Castle's flirtations. A jury was like a fickle instrument; you had to tune them finely, play them skillfully to achieve the results you sought without alienating each individual.

"I was picked up by two NYPD detectives-"

"Detectives Muller and Rodriguez?"

"That is correct." Richard Castle nodded. "Someone had been staging murders resembling the crime scenes in some of my novels, so the police had some questions."

"What questions specifically were you asked?"

"Whether I had ever met or been acquainted with any of the victims, which I had not, and whether I had an alibi for the most recent murder, which I had. I was asked to provide the detectives with access to my fan mail, which apparently led to the arrest of Mr. Cabot."

"Objection." The defense attorney jumped up, his cheeks splotchy. "Hearsay." He was young, and inexperienced, she knew - barely out of law school and thrown into a high-profile pro-bono case - but so far he'd been holding his own quite well. Kyle Cabot sat next to him, hands curled in his lap, rocking back and forth, his gaze staring vacantly at the tabletop. His black hair was stringy, hung limp over his forehead.

"Sustained."

This was an expected objection, and hardly threw her off her stride. Kate focused on the testimony she needed to get from Richard Castle.

"Mr. Castle, have you ever met the accused, Kyle Cabot?" Kate turned slightly, made sure the jury could still see her movement as she pointed at Cabot.

"Never."

"Has he ever contacted you?"

"No, not that I'm aware of. Just the letters, which I didn't even know about until the detectives found them among my fan mail. All my mail goes directly to my publisher."

Kate turned back toward her desk, lifting up the paper in its protective evidence encasing.

"Your Honor, I'd like to enter exhibit 2B into evidence, the letter that was found among Mr. Castle's fan mail. Mr. Cabot's fingerprint was discovered on the paper, and the drawing details the exact way Ms. Tisdale was found, which proves not only Mr. Cabot's obsession with Mr. Castle, but also establishes a direct connection between Mr. Cabot and the subsequent murder of Ms. Tisdale." She held up the letter for another long moment for the jury to absorb the impact of this piece of evidence before she handed it to the judge.

Kate Beckett took her time, allowing the weight of the letter to linger and settle before she continued.

"Mr. Castle, please take a look at the three crime scenes as they were discovered by the police."

Set up to the side of the courtroom, photos of the crime scenes were printed on poster board and placed on easels. It was one of Kate's preferred methods in a trial. It emphasized the stakes of each case to the jury and, more than anything, she never wanted the victims to be forgotten; she didn't want it to be out of sight or out of mind for even one second that these people deserved justice.

"Are you familiar with these crime scenes?"

"Yes." Castle nodded. "They look just like the murder scenes that I created in some of my novels." He pointed at the first one, the case of Marvin Fisk. "This is the murder scene from _Hell Hath No Fury_ , and this second one-" He pointed at the image of Alison Tisdale covered entirely in roses, with sunflowers on her eyes. "From _Flowers for Your Grave_. And the third one looks like the scene from _Death of a Prom Queen_."

Kate nodded, pleased with how smoothly the questioning had gone despite the doubts she'd had. "No further-"

"Except in my book the dress was blue."

Beckett froze; alarm bells went off in her head. No no no, this wasn't what he'd been prepped for in his deposition!

Her thoughts were firing, running through her options at lightning speed. She quickly realized that none would lead to a desirable outcome. Either she'd ask for Castle to clarify his remark, which would potentially open a huge can of worms she couldn't control. Or she'd end her questioning here, and provide the defense attorney with a big fat opportunity to puncture a few holes in her evidence. Then the jury would have doubts, and she couldn't afford for them to have doubts.

Yet the reality was, she was the one who had opened this line of questioning. If he noted a discrepancy between the crime scenes and his books, she had no choice but to see it through.

"Would you please clarify your comment?"

"Yes, well. In my book, the victim's dress in the scene was blue, yet the murder victim wears a yellow dress. In fact, Mr. Fisk should have been suffocated by a plastic bag, not strangled with a necktie. It doesn't make any sense."

"So you would say that a couple of minor details-" Kate purposely emphasized the word 'minor,' "-did not exactly match the scenes you wrote?" Kate scrambled through her meager attempt at damage control; it was all she had.

"Yes, I would say that."

"But as a whole the scenes still match the descriptions of your books closely enough that they appear copied?"

"Objection. Leading the witness."

"Sustained."

"No further questions, Your Honor. Thank you, Mr. Castle." Kate walked back to her desk, her head held high, her steps confident. The key was to never indicate that anything had gone amiss, that everything the jury had seen and heard hadn't unfolded exactly as planned.

Inside, Kate Beckett was fuming.

The defense attorney rose. Kate already knew what was coming, and there was nothing she could do about it but watch it happen.

"Mr. Castle, why did you feel it was important to point out the differences between the murders in your books and the crime scenes? After all, at first glance they seem to be just-" The attorney let his gaze run over the jury, shrugging his shoulders. "Minor details."

"Well as far as I understand, Mr. Cabot developed an obsession with me, and it was his obsession with me that led him to kill people staged like scenes from my books. Yet obsessives are meticulous; they go through great lengths to make sure every aspect is exact. For someone like Kyle Cabot, it would've been impossible to get the details wrong."

"Objection," Kate interjected. "Calls for speculation."

"Sustained," the judge granted, but it was too late. The damage was done.

"Thank you, Mr. Castle, no further questions." While Richard Castle vacated the witness stand, opposing counsel turned to address the judge.

"Your Honor, in light of Mr. Castle's testimony and the questions that have arisen, the defense requests a delay in order to prepare any potential mitigating evidence."

Richard Castle walked past her but Kate Beckett ignored him, staring straight ahead as she awaited the judge's ruling, with her thoughts turning at the nosedive that her case had just taken, and the fallout she'd be facing.

"Granted." The judge banged his gavel. "You've got 48 hours."

* * *

 _NOTE 1: Dear fans, thank you so much for your enthusiasm and support for the Season 9 project! This is the penultimate episode; our season finale is coming next week. We hope you enjoy these last two episodes._

 _NOTE 2: This week's episode has 6 chapters, so we are posting two chapters today. The remaining chapters will be posted one per day from Tuesday through Friday of this week. While email notifications are still broken, rest assured that we continue to post chapters each weekday at approximately 10:00 P.M., US Eastern Time._


	2. Chapter 2

Kate noticed him the moment he stepped outside the courthouse. She had planted herself halfway down the wide staircase of the Thurgood Marshall United States Courthouse, her side perched against one of the iron railings and her face turned toward the sun, pretending to soak in the warmth of the late September rays while she kept glancing up at the building's exits, waiting for him. The events of the last hour played over and over in her mind, and every repetition left her a little more incensed. Who the hell did he think he was?

He saw her almost immediately, honed in on her presence like a beacon. As if he might have been looking for her as well, as if he'd known she'd be waiting for him. And maybe he did; she didn't believe for one second that he'd been oblivious to the problems he had just caused. Their eyes met and his eyebrows rose, his expression opening into something that resembled eagerness as he hurried down the stairs toward her, the corners of his mouth etched up into a half smile that only infuriated her more.

She held her arms folded; had to tell herself to loosen the grip of her fingers around her biceps while she watched him saunter down the stairs as if he hadn't just completely wrecked her case. She certainly didn't feel like there was anything to smile about.

She confronted him the moment he was within earshot. "Where did that come from?" She tried to control the volume of her voice, aware of passers-by and tourists milling about, and her question came out sounding more like a hiss than enunciated. "What were you thinking?" She felt the urge to poke him in the chest with her index finger; instead she squeezed her own flesh again, would probably give herself a couple of bruises.

"Gee, I was thinking I was supposed to tell the truth, Counselor."

"The time for information of such magnitude is during the deposition, Mr. Castle. Why didn't you tell us any of that while you were being prepped for this case?"

"It didn't occur to me! They asked the questions differently, so I didn't notice the discrepancy. I heard it for the first time the moment it came out of my mouth."

"You need to learn to control your mouth," she snapped.

He had the audacity to grin at her. "You only say that because you don't know what my mouth can-"

"Mr. Castle!" Kate ground out through clenched teeth, his leer setting her on edge. "This whole bad-boy charm you've got going might work on other women; me, I work for a living, and you just made my job harder! You torpedoed my case! Because of you, a murderer might go free; doesn't that matter to you at all?"

"Look, I'm sorry I dinged your reputation, okay?" She bristled at that, but he continued seemingly undeterred. "But that doesn't change the fact that Kyle is innocent."

"You don't know that! One discrepancy does not make him innocent. There was a thorough investigation."

"But the story doesn't make any sense!"

"The story," she said, more statement than question. Kate rubbed her temples, exhaled slowly to keep her composure. This man's thought processes gave her whiplash.

"There's always a story, a chain of events that makes sense. This story - it doesn't make any sense."

"This isn't one of your books, Mr. Castle-"

"Call me Rick," he interrupted her.

"Mr. Castle-"

He stepped closer, his body shielding her from the sun, invading her personal space with his broad shoulders and subtle scent and heavy-lidded stare. "And do you know you have gorgeous eyes?"

Kate blinked up at him, caught herself trying to bite her bottom lip, clenched her teeth instead. She felt vividly aware of the breeze ruffling the strands of her hair against the back of her neck, the sun heating the black leather of her pumps and the warmth as it crawled into her toes, the scent of his aftershave and the blood pounding through the vein in her neck. She closed her eyes for a second, took a calming breath.

"Look-" She stepped back. "Out here, we find a guy standing over a dead body with a gun, he's usually the one who did it."

"But what if he didn't?"

"Then the court will find him innocent."

"And you really believe that?" He sounded incredulous, and she stiffened.

"I have to." She hated that she sounded like she was pleading about something she believed in, that he could get to her so easily. She crossed her arms again, straightened her posture. "I believe it."

"But don't you want to find out? Do you want the truth, or do you just want to win?"

Kate felt like all the oxygen had been punched from her lungs. How dare he question her commitment; this was what she lived for, worked interminably long hours for, day after day, with low pay and too little rest. She counted to ten in her head to calm down.

"It is my job to prosecute the accused based on the evidence collected, Mr. Castle; I don't investigate murder cases on the whim of a writer's imagination."

"And you never break any of the rules, do you? Don't you ever have any fun? Drop your top? A little Lawyers Gone Wild?" He eyed her up and down. "You might like it."

"What I would like is to clean up the mess you created." She grabbed her laptop bag, hooked the strap over her shoulder, trying to push past him. "No more interference with this case, Mr. Castle. Do we understand each other?"

"Yeah." He nodded, took a step back to let her pass by. She told herself she wasn't bothered by the look of disappointment on his face.

"But you still have the wrong guy."

* * *

"I don't need to remind you what's at stake in this case, do I?"

The DA's voice thundered through the speaker and Kate resisted the urge to hold the phone away from her ear. She closed her eyes, pressed her thumb and index finger over the bridge of her nose to stave off the vicious ache lurking behind her forehead. "No, sir."

"I didn't think so. Now get back to work and fix this mess!"

"Yes, sir." Kate acquiesced, but she doubted he had heard it; he'd already slammed down the phone. Only the dial tone still hummed in her ear.

Kate placed the handset back in its cradle, and buried her head in the folded frame of her arms on her desk. She growled, resisting the urge to scream out her frustration. At least she had pulled down the flimsy roller blind on the small window in her office door, giving her a modicum of privacy.

It wasn't like Kate hadn't expected this call, but that didn't make it any easier to be on the receiving end of the DA's ire. She certainly wasn't used to it; wasn't accustomed to not winning. She was young, had barely been on the job for two years but she worked hard, and her record was stellar; she had a great case conviction rate and was regarded highly by her colleagues as well as the DA. She wasn't easily fazed. But this was a big one - bigger than most of the cases she'd handled so far. She had finally been given a real opportunity to prove herself, and she was expected to excel. The Tisdale family money and influence carried weight, and the pressure came down from the mayor, the commissioner, the DA; anybody of rank and file in the city wanted this case closed smoothly and irrefutably.

And she had royally screwed it up. No, not just her - he had done his part - Richard freaking Castle! Who did he think he was, waltzing into her courtroom, creating upheaval with no regard for the consequences, and questioning her work ethic?

But as much as she might have wanted, she couldn't hold on to the righteous indignation she had been feeling for Rick Castle running his big mouth in court. Because he was right, and she could no longer ignore that.

She should've looked closer; she should've noticed those discrepancies herself. Shouldn't she?

It had presented as such a straightforward case - the evidence found to convict Kyle Cabot was straightforward, and convincing. The fingerprint on the fan letter, the shrine to Castle in his home, both Alison's bloodied blouse and the murder weapon in his possession. There was no reason to doubt the veracity of the case, to question the evidence she was given. She had looked at every piece of evidence, had pored over every deposition, the crime scene photos, walked through the chain of events. There had been no apparent reason to doubt the police investigation that had been done, or her own work. She'd done her job, and yet-

She hated it when cops could only make sense of things if they fit in a box, and just tried to package everything up nicely if they couldn't think outside its constricting frames.

Had she done the same? Become complacent, too used to winning; had she stopped thinking outside the box? Had she been so focused on her goal, on her own successes, that she had lost track of what mattered most?

He'd done that to her. He'd stirred up doubt, and she couldn't get it out of her head. How had he so easily seen right through her?

Kate lifted her head, reached for her phone once more, and dialed. It rang a couple of times, and then the warm, familiar voice rang through the phone in greeting, and Kate felt like sighing at the sense of respite that enveloped her.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mom," Kate replied, settling back in her chair. She swiveled a half turn so that instead of staring at her desk, she faced the built-in bookshelves, the rows upon rows of books and legal tomes that made her feel grounded, anchored to her job, to the system and her place in it.

"Kate! Everything okay?"

"Why do you think it wouldn't be?"

"Don't play coy with me, Kate Beckett. I know your voice; I can tell something's on your mind. So what's the matter, sweetheart, hm? Out with it."

"Oh, Mom," Kate sighed, and then she recounted her morning to her mother – told her about the case, about Richard Castle and the botched witness testimony, and the doubts it had stirred in her. Her mother didn't interrupt until Kate had reached the end of her tale, concluding with the reaming out she'd just received from none other than the DA himself.

"I just don't know what to do."

"I think you know exactly what you need to do, Kate. Isn't that why you called me? For absolution?"

Kate could hear the teasing in her mother's voice, couldn't help the small smile that stole onto her face as well. Because her mom was right. She had known Johanna Beckett would encourage what deep down - if she was truly honest with herself - Kate had already known she wanted, _needed_ to do.

Kate had a goal she was working toward, but that didn't mean she had ever wanted to lose sight of what truly mattered – the truth mattered. Justice mattered. Her mother had taught her that, had instilled that intrinsic value into her daughter by modeling a life spent fighting for the truth, fighting to see justice served no matter what. _Vincit omnia veritas_. As long as Kate could remember – teenage rebellion phase aside - she had wanted to be like her mother, wanted to do her part to make the world a better, a fairer place.

"But it's not my job to investigate; I've got maybe another 40 hours before we're due back in court; I don't have any resources to start digging around, and if it's discovered that I've been sabotaging my case instead of aiming for a conviction- Let's just say I won't be prosecuting anyone in this city ever again."

Kate felt torn. She cared that justice was served. The victims deserved it; every victim deserved that their murderer was tried and convicted, and served the punishment for their crimes. In most cases - as opposed to what TV shows would often make you believe - this was a straightforward process. Like she had told Castle earlier, in real life if they found solid evidence tying a victim to a suspect, he or she was usually the one who did it. But Kate had never wanted to win just for the sake of winning. She wanted to see the right person convicted for a crime; she wanted to be sure she'd done the just thing.

"You'll find a way. I know you will. You know what matters most, so fight for it. No victory is worth it if justice isn't served."

Kate chewed her lip. She knew her mother was right; knew her instincts had driven her in the same direction. It was why she had called her mother. Everything always sounded so easy, so straightforward when Johanna Beckett said it, when she forged her path forward no matter the obstacles. To take the actual leap was a different matter.

"The truth can never hurt us. Remember that, Katie."

* * *

She had to ring the doorbell twice, had almost chickened out in the quiet pauses that followed each hum of the buzzer, had to force her feet to stay put and her fingers to unknot from the tight clasp with which she held her hands. What was she doing here, of all places?

The door swung open wide and she found herself staring into the wide muzzle of a plastic gun.

"Counselor!" Rick Castle lowered the toy gun he'd pointed at her, his torso blinking in neon greens and blues.

"Who is it, Dad?" A lanky, redheaded teen appeared by his side, wearing the same blinking suit, a large plastic gun dangling from her hand. Her gaze danced back and forth between her father and Kate.

"Alexis, this is Assistant District Attorney Kate Beckett. Counselor, this is my daughter Alexis."

"Hi," Kate waved an awkward small wave, felt thoroughly scrutinized. Two pairs of almost identical stark-blue eyes looked at her with blatant interest, and Kate felt her cheeks heat up, hoped against hope that she wasn't visibly flushing.

In the past couple of hours that Kate had contemplated coming here, had talked herself into it and out of it and into it again, had sat in the back of a cab rehearsing what she would say, it hadn't once occurred to her that he might not be alone. She had completely forgotten that he had a daughter.

"Dad! Manners!" His daughter elbowed her father in the side.

"Oh, right. Duh." Richard Castle rolled his eyes, pretended to shoot himself with his laser tag gun as he gestured her inside. It seemed that he, too, felt somewhat off-balance by her visit, and oddly enough, that made her feel a little better.

"Please, come in."

Beckett stepped into Richard Castle's home, surreptitiously let her eyes wander across the space. His home was a spacious loft with high ceilings and warm colors, and a floor-to-ceiling window with an ebony grand piano in front of it. One wall was entirely made up of bookshelves. The open-concept living space felt warm and welcoming and not what she had expected. What _had_ she expected?

"Where is my purse? Has anybody seen- Oh." A red-haired woman came sidling down the stairs, moved toward the small group in the foyer. "Now, who's this lovely creature?" The woman was all sparkling eyes and vivacious expressions, despite wearing a pea-green face mask, and was eyeing Kate's presence much more unabashedly than even Castle had.

"Mother, this is Assistant District Attorney Kate Beckett. My mother, Martha Rodgers."

"Hello, darling," the woman held out her hand for a greeting, squeezed Kate's hand affectionately, as if entirely charmed by her unexpected presence.

"Hi," Kate said again. She felt hopelessly speechless, out of her element. Awkward silence spun around the group, and Kate was jittery, restless with the need to talk with him in private.

Castle glanced a couple of fingers over the ball of her shoulder, his sudden touch startling her so much that she almost jumped. Her eyes flew to his until she realized that he was trying to guide her further into his home, rescuing her.

"May I get you a drink?"


	3. Chapter 3

She accepted the drink, and then she trailed beside Richard Castle as he led her to his study. The sacred space where he wrote the novels in which she so loved losing herself. Her stomach took a nosedive, and she sipped her drink, let the rich bourbon flow down her throat, lace her blood with heat. On second thought, maybe it hadn't been a good idea to add alcohol to her already frazzled nerves.

She felt like Alfred in the Bat Cave for the first time, but she bit back the comment. Instead she let her gaze wander across the shelves filled floor to ceiling with books, the peculiar gadgets on display, the large flat screen in the corner, the enormous mahogany desk.

What the hell had she been thinking? She had invited herself into the home of Richard Castle, multi-millionaire novelist and Page 6 playboy womanizer, because she felt a little lost. She didn't know this man - so why had she come here?

"So what can I do for you, Counselor?" His question startled her from her runaway thoughts and she turned toward him, found him watching her quietly. She blushed.

"It's, uh, Kate. Call me Kate."

The smile widened across his face, warm and inviting, making her stomach flutter and her breath catch in her lungs, like the wings of a butterfly trapped beneath the cage of her ribs. She felt completely out of her element. She'd faced judges and attorneys, murderers and witnesses, even the DA every day, yet this man had the ability to throw her off balance just by looking at her. Was this what being star-struck felt like?

"Kate," he acknowledged. She liked the way her name sounded coming from his lips, the gravel in his voice when he said it.

She had questioned her choice to seek him out on her way over here, couldn't figure out the urge she had felt to get his perspective before going back to the police. She had told herself that she would need to discuss the discrepancies in the crime scenes which he had laid out in his testimony, but it was a lame excuse for the truth. In his books, there was always logic, always a chain of events that made everything make sense, and she realized that she needed that. She needed to make sense of it, and she couldn't do it on her own. She lived her life, pursued her work on the strength of her convictions, and now so much of what she believed in seemed to have been thrown off-kilter, leaving her unsettled, questioning what she was fighting for.

"I can't figure it out," she admitted, heard her own frustration ringing in her voice.

"I got to you, didn't I?" He wiggled his eyebrows, utterly pleased with himself. It almost made her laugh, and created a bit of levity she badly needed.

"Oh please. You didn't get to me." She paused, sighed. "They did. The victims."

Rick Castle leaned back against his desk, watching her with rapt attention.

It occurred to her that she liked this this quieter, attentive Richard Castle much better. This version of him with his family, in the safety of his home. He seemed more like himself, more... settled in the type of person he was.

"First, he kills Marvin Fisk, a guy he knew from the diner where he worked. Then he kills Alison Tisdale, his social worker. And then the third victim is Kendra Pitney, also from the diner. He escalated from a murder of convenience to someone he knew very well, and then went back to a murder of convenience. It doesn't make any sense."

"No other relationship between the victims?"

"The police didn't find any."

"You know what else doesn't make sense? There were no fingerprints or any other evidence left behind at the crime scenes, right?"

Kate nodded.

"But then he writes me a fan letter with his prints all over it?"

Kate's heart leapt with excitement, like a jolt of lighting, and she stepped closer to him. "Somebody set him up! Somebody who knew enough about his fixation with you to use it to get away with murder!"

Castle nodded, straightening up from his perch against the desk to face her, his expressions animated as he spoke. "That means we're not looking for a serial killer; we're looking for a good old-fashioned murderer. Someone with motive!"

"Wouldn't the police have found that?" Kate questioned.

"Not necessarily. They weren't looking for it. At one death you look for motive, at two you look for a connection. At three, you look for someone like Kyle. At three, you don't need motive because totally unstable serial killers don't usually have one."

"But who-?" They fell quiet. Her thoughts were turning over and over in her head, trying to catch a conclusion that remained stubbornly elusive. Kate took another sip of her drink. The ice cubes rattled against the thick crystal of the tumbler, cold condensation sluicing over her fingertips.

"Hmm... If I were writing the story-"

"Yeah?" Their eyes met and she felt an energy, an exhilaration sparking through her that she often experienced reading a good murder mystery, when the protagonists were just on the cusp of a breakthrough.

"If I wrote the story, the killer would have wanted only one of the victims dead. He would have killed the other ones just to cover up the crime."

The idea seemed crazy; who would commit three murders to get away with just one? And yet it was the first thing that made any sense. "In order for that to work, our killer had to have known both his intended victim and Kyle fairly well."

Castle nodded. "And the only victim that had any real knowledge of Kyle's obsessive condition would have been Alison Tisdale."

"So Alison was the real target; the other two were just a diversion." They were staring at each other; his eyes held hers captive, and she became aware of how close they standing. Barely a foot of space remained between them; she could almost feel his chest rise and fall, and he was smiling down at her, the corners of his eyes crinkled and those blue eyes sparkling with the same kind of exhilaration that was pumping through her, clouding her senses, leaving her breathless. And oh god, he smelled good-

Kate swallowed, took a step back. Her fingertips tingled and her heart was throbbing so harshly that she worried he'd be able to hear it as it rattled against her ribs.

"So then how do we prove it? Without proof, it's just a theory. Kyle needs more than a theory; _I_ need more than a theory."

"We find the real killer." He stated it matter-of-factly, as if it was the easiest thing in the world that they - a novelist and an Assistant District Attorney - would find a murderer the police hadn't been able to discover. And yet for some inexplicable reason - she believed him.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Kate hissed, as she quickly closed the door behind her and lowered the blind. "You were supposed to lie low!"

Rick Castle sat perched in her chair behind her desk, his fingers steepled in a display of innocence, though she highly suspected he'd been leafing through her case files. He grinned at her, looking entirely too unbothered (and handsome, her mind unhelpfully supplied).

"Relax, Counselor. I made up a good excuse for your assistant. Told her you ordered me here for a follow-up on my testimony. She was _very_ sympathetic; she even let me in here to wait out of sight on account of my fame."

Yeah, Kate just bet she did. He'd probably flirted his way past Jessi which, granted, wasn't hard to do. She told herself her annoyance was not jealousy. At all. She'd have to have a stern talk with Jessi about letting people wait unaccompanied in her office; client confidentiality needed to be protected at all costs.

"Why are you here?" When she had left his home last night, she'd told him she would call with any news or updates; she should've known she couldn't trust his easy acquiescence.

"Brought you some coffee." He smiled, held up a take-out Starbucks cup to her. "Grande skim latte, two pumps sugar-free vanilla."

"How did you-?" Never mind; Jessi had probably gabbed her coffee order the moment Rick Castle had so much as winked his eyelashes at her. Kate moved to her desk and took the cup, taking a long sip of the still-hot liquid. Her eyes closed involuntarily. Dang, she had needed that. It was barely 10:00 A.M. and the day already felt interminable. She had had an early court appearance, and the weight of the Cabot case had kept her up most of the night, leaving her tired and distracted. And on top of that, she kept thinking about him - Castle. He kept popping into her head, smiling at her, and she had to ruthlessly squash the flutters she felt in her stomach every time she thought of him. She sighed.

"Enjoying that, Counselor?"

"Shut up, Castle," she chastised, not really meaning it. The coffee was amazing. "And get out of my chair."

"Did they ever question Harrison Tisdale?" he asked.

"Alison's brother? No, there was never any reason to. Why?" She walked around her desk, staring him down until he got up from her chair. He pulled it out for her to sit down, all the while continuing his thought.

"Because I think there's reason now. His father died of cancer not too long after his daughter was murdered."

Kate nodded, pulling Alison's file from the stack. She was well aware of that fact, since the Tisdale name and the tragedy surrounding this family loomed large over her case.

"And guess where his fortune went?"

"Harrison Tisdale," Kate acknowledged. Castle looked pleased with her, and their eyes held for a long moment. The phone rang, jolting them back to awareness.

"Don't you dare!" she warned when his arm shot out toward her phone, and he retracted his hand as she lifted up the receiver.

"Kate Beckett," she answered.

Castle planted himself just behind her chair, leaning over her shoulder, trying to listen in on her conversation. She felt his presence between her shoulder blades, shivering down her spine, distracting and not entirely unpleasant.

"Hey Beckett, it's Ryan." Detective Kevin Ryan was a homicide detective at the 12th Precinct. He and his partner, Detective Esposito, were two of the few people she trusted implicitly. Over the past years of prosecuting murder cases, she had worked with them several times, and knew first-hand that they took every case seriously. Plus, Ryan had owed her a favor.

"Great timing, thanks for calling me back. Let me put you on speaker." Kate pushed the speaker button, her eyes skating up as she looked at Castle crowding against her while she made phone introductions, and he dutifully took a step back.

"Ryan, I'm here with Richard Castle. Tell me what you found out."

"We scrubbed the financials of Harrison Tisdale like you asked, and guess what? The guy was dead broke right around the time his sister died. His business was going under; rumor has it he was this close to declaring Chapter Eleven bankruptcy. Then his father died, and the inheritance covered all his debts and then some."

"What about the will?" Kate asked.

"Jonathan Tisdale never got around to changing his will before he died," Ryan replied. "Half of his money went to a charitable foundation, the other half to his children, Harrison and Alison."

"And with Alison dead, Harrison got it all," Castle mused, staring at her, and she nodded. It sounded like motive to her, too.

"Thank you, Detective Ryan."

"Anytime, Beckett."

Kate hung up the phone, and then she felt Castle lean closer, his cheek so near to hers that she almost expected to feel the brush of his skin against hers. "You already knew." His voice was low, seemed to rumble right through her. "About Tisdale."

She turned her head, and their eyes met. "What did you think I was up to all morning while you took your beauty nap? Twiddling my thumbs?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"And ruin your little moment there?" she teased, tongue-in-cheek, and he pouted, and she didn't find it adorable at all.

"Okay," he straightened, rubbed his hands together. "What do we do next?"

" _We_ aren't doing anything." Kate grabbed her suit jacket, slid her arms into the sleeves, and adjusted her collar. "I am going to go see Harrison Tisdale, and you are going to go home."

"Why can't I come?" he whined, crowding into her personal space. Kate turned, pressed her fingers against his chest to push him back.

"Because right now, we have him at an advantage. He doesn't know I'm investigating him; he'll think I'm there to ensure Cabot's conviction. He'll give up more if he thinks he's safe. But you waltz in there with me, and we're toast. He might've been in the courtroom to watch the trial, and even if he wasn't, he's bound to have heard of you running your mouth during your testimony."

He pouted. "Deal."

She pursed her mouth, trying to hide her amusement. "It really wasn't up for discussion."

"Whatever." He waved her off. "But you'll call me the moment you're done with him?"

Kate rolled her eyes. "Yes, I will call you right after the interview."

"Pinky swear?" He eyed her expectantly, held out his crooked pinky finger. He was such a child.

"Don't push it, Castle."

* * *

"A U.S. passport?"

He sounded so abjectly disappointed that Kate had to bite her lip to hold in a laugh.

Of course Castle hadn't gone home like she had told him. When she was exiting Harrison Tisdale's office building after her 'interview,' she'd found him waiting just off to the side of the main door, holding out a fresh latte to her like some sort of peace offering. She'd rolled her eyes at him all the while reaching for the cup, and then she took her time savoring her coffee, letting him stew for a couple of minutes because it was just so much fun to exasperate him a little in the same ways that he did to her.

Once they were walking down the sidewalk toward the subway, she recounted the details of her conversation with Harrison Tisdale, ending with the fact that during the time that each of the murders had been committed, Tisdale had presented an alibi - a passport stamp for having been out of the country on business trips.

She nodded. "Hm hmm. Absolutely unassailable."

"I was so sure it was him!"

"Oh don't take it too hard. After all, you're just a writer."

"What?"

"Nothing." She hid her grin behind the rim of the coffee cup, took another sip.

"What?!"

"Oh come on, doesn't it strike you as odd that it's been more than six months and yet Tisdale just so happened to have his passport handy to prove his alibis to me? He conveniently remembers, off the top of his head, each of his trips at the time of each murder? I get that he'd know where he was when his sister was murdered, but the other two victims?"

"He's lying."

She nodded. "I think so. I've tried a lot of cases by now, I've prepped hundreds of witnesses and defendants for depositions and court statements, and believe me, no one prepares or remembers meticulous alibis several months later unless they have something to hide!"

"So I was right!"

She rolled her eyes. "Hah! He totally fooled you," she needled him. "I was right. I figured it out first, remember?"

"Alright, fine, you did; I will buy you a hot dog." She smirked at him, but then her thoughts turned sober, her mind already back on the case.

"But then how did he do it? If he was out of the country at the time of each murder, how'd he commit them? Did he hire someone? A contract killer?"

"I'm not sure you'd find a contract killer who'd be able to set up scenes as meticulous as Tisdale needed them to be staged. No, no, I think he did it himself. Just... how?"

"He forged the passport stamps!" Kate dug through her purse for her phone, trying to unlock it with one hand while juggling her coffee with the other. "I should call-"

"That's not how he would've done it."

She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. "Then how would he have done it?" she asked.

Castle was two steps ahead of her when he noticed she'd stopped walking and turned back, facing her.

"Second passport."

"And how'd he have obtained that?"

"With his connections? Piece of cake." He shrugged. "So he leaves the country with his own passport, enters with the second, commits the murder, leaves the country and then comes back with his own passport, providing himself with the perfect alibi."

"That's a nice theory, but how do we prove it?"

"We'd have to find that second passport." His eyebrows furrowed in thought. "But if he's not completely dumb he surely would have destroyed it by now. And I don't know that the police would be able to obtain a warrant based on nothing more than speculation."

"So we're back to square one?" She sighed, felt weighed down by a sense of helplessness settling on her shoulders. She'd been so sure they'd be able crack this; she'd been so naïve. She should've known it couldn't be that easy.

"We could... tip off the opposition? I could do it; I could find a way to let Cabot's lawyer know what we know without tipping him off to the source of the information?"

Kate paused, thought on that for a moment. It wasn't the worst idea she'd ever heard, barring any other options. It'd be a serious breach of ethics, but she'd rather risk that then send an innocent man to prison. She sighed, rubbed her fingers along her forehead and the pressure points over her eyebrows. "Let's hold off on that for the moment. I'll update Detective Ryan; we'll let him dig a little deeper. If we get nowhere then maybe-" She let the thought trail off and Castle wrapped a hand around her forearm, halting her steps.

"You okay?" he asked, his fingers squeezing her arm. "You seem... subdued." She turned toward him, found him looking at her with concern. It made her stomach flutter.

"Yeah, I'm fine, it's just..." She couldn't put into words what she was feeling, that bone-deep exhaustion that had layered over her all of a sudden, a kind of hopelessness in the face of what they were up against. She thought she could make a difference, could be a force for the truth, some superhero of justice. She had been fooling herself, and somehow she couldn't bear for him to witness her failure. "I really should get back to my office; I have a lot of work to do and another court appearance this afternoon."

He nodded, still scrutinizing her. "Okay. Call me. If you need anything." His hand trailed down her arm, lingered on top of hers for a moment, and the warmth of his touch made her skin tingle. She looked up at him and then he let go; his hand fell off hers, retreated to his side. She felt the loss keenly. "Even if it's just to talk."

She nodded, swallowed around the knot in her throat. "Okay. I... I have to go."

She brushed past him, kept her back straight as she marched toward the subway entrance. She could still feel his eyes on her as she hurried down the stairs, disappearing down into the tunnels below the city.

* * *

Kate stepped out of the courthouse, took a moment to inhale a deep breath, soak in the fresh air after several hours spent in a stuffy, windowless courtroom.

It was just barely cooling down; the warmth of the day still lingered in the air as the sun tentatively dipped toward the horizon. Then she squared her shoulders and descended the wide staircase, her thoughts mapping her day; she was still processing the last couple of hours in court - that case had gone well - while the Cabot case came tunneling back to the forefront of her mind, inundating her with more questions. She was vividly aware that she was running out of time.

She was due back in court the next morning, and she still had nothing: no proof, just suspicion and unsubstantiated theories, and there would be nothing she could do but continue to prosecute a man whom she now thought innocent. It was gnawing at her, left a sickening feeling in her stomach. She'd need to check in with Detectives Ryan and Esposito whether they had something new, and then she'd need to call Castle as well, see if he had come up with anything else. She felt a little ridiculous for the way she had run from him earlier today. She had behaved like a moody teen instead of the adult she was. Objectively, Kate still wasn't any closer to solving the riddles of this case, but a few hours of distance had helped even her out, helped her feel less fatalistic about it.

It happened so fast, her brain was barely able to compute what was happening, and yet later she'd remember every second as if it were a slow-motion movie reel. She was hurrying down the stone stairs, day-dreaming of take-out fettuccini Alfredo and a glass of red wine; had almost reached the bottom step when the sound of her name froze her, sent her heart racing at the unmistakable grate of panic that rang in the sharp consonants, and then Richard Castle barreled into her, crashing her to the ground; blunt pain flared along her spine and the breath pushed from her lungs, the weight of his body flattening her and the deafening crack of gunshots, pop pop, a one-two punch that punctured the air, hissing just past her, like air being suctioned from her ears, their echoes ricocheting off the high-rise buildings, bouncing through the canyons of the city.


	4. Chapter 4

"Kate. Kate!"

She groaned, and dull pain pounded all along her spine, robbing her of air.

"Are you alright? Were you hit?"

His voice broke through the haze in her brain and she mentally took inventory of her body. Kate tried to turn her head, found it cradled in his palm, his thumb pressing into her skin just below her ear, stroking softly along her vein. Warmth flared where he touched.

"Just... Wind... knocked... out." She tried to suck in a deep breath, lift herself to a sitting position. The concrete edge of the bottom stair was digging against her spine; she must've slammed against it as Castle hurled himself atop her, cradling her beneath the bulk of his body. He smelled fresh and somehow like woods, and she incongruously found herself wanting to nestle her forehead into the curve of his neck and rest there.

"Come on, we need to get out of here." He hoisted her up, his other arm sliding beneath her knees. She had a sudden vision of Scarlett O'Hara, carried up the stairway by Rhett Butler, pounding her fists to his chest in protest and not really meaning it, and Kate knocked away his arm, swung her feet to the ground to find her footing.

"I can walk," she insisted. Her head spun as she stood up, her thoughts still dazed. She'd really been... shot at?

"My car's down there; come on," his voice rumbled near her ear, a pleasant vibration that she couldn't revel in because around her, people were still screaming, scattering apart in all directions while Castle urged her forward, looking behind him. "We're in the clear right now."

She followed him for a couple of steps and then shuddered to a sudden stop. "But the police- We should-"

"Not now," he growled, pulled her forward until they'd reached a silver sedan at the curb. He opened the door and she slid into the seat; he slammed the door closed and she watched him jog around the hood of the car and slide into the driver's seat. He peeled out of the parking spot, tires squealing like a bad action movie, and Kate moaned as she twisted her torso to put on her seatbelt, every move solely on autopilot.

"You okay?" he asked, but he didn't look at her; he sounded anxious, checking over his shoulder to weave through the city traffic.

"Yeah," she nodded. The movement made her head pound, and she closed her eyes for a moment, the dull pain at her back seeming to vibrate along her spine. That was going to turn into a spectacular bruise, she thought.

"Here," he murmured, pushed a button on the middle console, and within seconds the seat heated up beneath her, spreading warmth to her bruised tailbone and along her spine, soothing the ache like soft kisses to her skin.

"Ice would be better, in case it swells." He glanced at her sideways. "Obviously we don't have that right now. But there might be some Advil in the middle console, if you want to look."

She opened the middle compartment, found a pair of men's sunglasses, a pack of Kleenex and a couple of chapsticks in fruity flavors that she figured must be his daughter's, some loose change, gum, Pop Rocks candy, and then at the bottom, a travel-sized bottle of pain meds. She shook out three Advil, swallowed them dry, and sank back into the warmth of the seat, letting herself be lulled by the low hum of the car, the quiet vibration of the tires against asphalt, and the soft stop and go as they decelerated and accelerated at the traffic lights, watching the cityscape fly past the window.

"Where are you going? This isn't exactly the fastest route to the nearest police precinct."

"Out of the city," he replied matter-of-factly, as if that was the most logical answer in this situation.

"What? We can't just flee the scene! We have to get back; we have to-"

"I am not driving you back there while someone's out there shooting at you!" His voice was low, serious, and when their eyes met he looked grim. Determined.

"You don't know if they were aiming for me-"

"The hell I don't! I saw him point his gun directly at you, Kate! If it hadn't been for the glint of sunlight reflecting off the gun in that moment-" He trailed off, snapped his lips closed. He didn't need to finish the thought for her to know what remained unsaid, the words hanging unspoken in the space between them.

She'd be dead.

"Why were you there?"

"I was waiting for you."

"Are you stalking me now?" But she regretted the words the moment they left her mouth. She wasn't angry at him; it was just adrenaline draining from her, the shock of the moment subsiding, leaving the cold clutch of fear in its place. She'd almost been shot! She could barely wrap her head around it.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, turning for him. It wasn't like she hadn't also thought of calling him when she had left court, had wanted to speak with him, reconvene on the case. Kate reached out a hand, rested it on his bicep. She felt the muscle flex beneath her fingers as Rick guided the steering wheel and he sucked in a breath when she touched him, his eyes flickering over to her when he stopped at a red light.

"It's okay. I'm glad I was there." And he still looked at her with that dark, steel-blue gaze, his look so penetrating that her insides clamped, and her breath felt caught in her throat. He had saved her life, and she couldn't seem to figure out what to do with that.

The traffic light changed to green, and his eyes left hers to focus on the road, and only then did she feel like she could breathe again. She let her hand slide off his arm, missed the soothing warmth of his skin immediately.

"So what do we do now? We have to talk to the police; we can't just run away..."

"Then call those guys you know, the detectives, tell them what happened. But I am not driving you back anywhere until we know it's safe!"

She huffed, glaring at him, but his expression was set; he was staring resolutely at the road, his brow furrowed into a grim line. She bristled at him telling her what to do as if she was some kind of child! But then he turned to look at her for a moment, his expression softer and his eyes shining with concern.

"Just let me take you somewhere, Kate. Somewhere you'll be safe."

Kate deflated; she had no defenses against his sincerity. She dug through her purse for her phone, and dialed.

This time it was Detective Esposito who answered her call. "Hey Esposito, it's Beckett."

"Yo Beckett, glad to hear from you! We heard about your little courthouse incident."

"How did you-?" Word really did travel fast in this city.

"Got a call from the mobile unit that monitors the courthouse. They recognized you, gave us a call as the precinct that's closest. Not really our territory since you're not, you know, dead, but since we find it useful to keep you around, we figured we'd keep an eye on it."

She bit at the grin that stole onto her face at his nonchalant way of speaking that belied the actual concern she knew he felt. "Thanks guys, I owe you one."

"You bet you do," the detective agreed. "Now, here's the deal. The guys on site weren't able to capture the suspect; he disappeared into the crowd. He was dressed like one of the courthouse security guards but the manager says none of their guards are unaccounted for, so he likely wasn't one of them; probably stole the uniform to be inconspicuous while he stood around waiting for you. We're scrubbing the security footage outside the courthouse and the street cams as we speak, see if we can get a visual of the guy. Where are you right now?"

"In the car, heading out of the city. Do I need to come back?"

"Naw. Until we know more for sure, you might as well lie low. I'll call you back soon as I hear anything."

"Okay. Thanks, Esposito."

"No sweat, chica. You stay safe."

She hung up, let the phone slide back into her purse while she felt Castle's eyes glance at her from the side.

"Don't gloat."

"Wasn't gonna," he replied, gloating.

"So where are we going?"

"You tell me. I can take you to my house in the Hamptons...?"

"I am not going to your house in the Hamptons, Rick Castle." The image of him in swim shorts, of some mansion by the beach and a romantic sunrise over the water, made her heart leap against her ribs. "Besides, I doubt that would fall in the category of 'lying low.'"

"Good point. You got a better idea?"

She sighed, bit her lip as she thought on it. "My parents have a small cabin. In the woods by a lake, very secluded."

He nodded, and she punched the address into the car's GPS, and then she leaned back against the headrest, let her eyes fall closed for a moment. The aches in her body had calmed to a dull throbbing, fatigue tugged at her limbs, and her mind felt blank with exhaustion. She listened to the steady hum of the car as the day dipped into twilight, watching the world fly by in blurred flashes.

* * *

"This is nice!" he announced when they stepped inside the cabin, and Kate turned to look at him, checked if he was being facetious. It was nothing special, just a rustic vacation cabin in the woods, nowhere near what she figured a millionaire writer would be used to. But Castle was taking in the open living space with eager eyes, and she paused, took a moment to imagine how he might experience her family's small vacation home with new eyes, as opposed to a place she had been visiting for twenty-odd years. Some of the wood paneling was getting outdated, the wallpaper a little faded, but the cathedral ceiling with its thick wooden beams made the space seem larger than it was, and the stone fireplace with the plush U-shaped sectional sofa and the patterned area rugs gave the open space a homey, cozy feel.

The air in the cabin was musty. Dust motes flittered in the light when she'd turned on the overhead lamp. There'd been a lot of rain the last couple of weeks, and the humidity hung heavy between the walls. Kate circled around and opened several windows, then turned on the ceiling fans, and soon the fresh cool breeze was invigorating the space. She paused at the picture window to look out over the lake, lying ink-black and mysterious in the darkness, the water lapping languidly against the shore. She inhaled deeply, soaking the freshness of the air into her lungs, the scents of moss and earth and wood. She loved the city, but being out here was revitalizing, and she had had way too little time the last few years to take advantage of it.

Her neck prickled with the keen awareness of his eyes on her, of his presence filling the cabin. There was a largeness to him that seemed to surround her within this confined space, and it left her feeling nervous, made her rush to move, to talk just to cut through the charged silence.

"Okay, so this is the master bedroom." She opened the door to her parents' bedroom, gesturing inside. "You can sleep in here."

"You sure?"

"Oh yeah." She nodded. "I have my own room." Kate pointed to the door located on the other side of the living area. She liked her small bedroom out here, the familiarity of its comforts, the old-fashioned quilt her grandmother had sewn when Kate was little, and the wooden shelves with the rows of ratty-looking paperbacks she'd been leaving out here for years.

"I'm going to change. Make yourself comfortable."

Kate rushed to her room, closed the door behind her and leaned against it, sucking in a deep breath. She couldn't seem to get her nerves under control, her insides fluttering every time she felt him near. She felt thrown by it; what was it about him that kept her so off-balance? She usually wasn't like this; had become reserved over the years, more careful with her heart than when she was a young adult and still believed in that forever kind of love. She was probably still reeling from almost getting shot, from the spike of fear and the rush of adrenaline.

She made herself move, took off her blazer and blouse, slid out of the suit pants and toed off her shoes. Her back strained with every movement, the aches compounding every time she had to twist her torso or straighten her arms. She padded over to the closet where she always kept a few pieces of comfortable clothing, selected a pair of yoga pants and a loose purple t-shirt, pieces that wouldn't feel constricting to the bruising she'd sustained. She wondered how battered she was looking along the length of her spine, but there were no double mirrors here to inspect the damage, and she sure wasn't going to ask him.

He was on the phone when she stepped out into the living room, his back to her while he was talking.

"No, I'm fine, just something I need to take care of." He fell silent, listening, and Kate went into the kitchen, started inspecting the contents of the pantry, trying not to eavesdrop.

"Yeah, I'll check back in tomorrow morning." His voice was low as he spoke, full of affection, and she wondered whom he was calling, and wondered why it mattered to her.

She was starving; she'd been hungry two hours ago when she was leaving court; by now it felt like her stomach lining was trying to eat itself. Fortunately, they always kept a few non-perishables out here, in case they arrived late and needed a quick meal, and Kate found a couple of boxes of spaghetti, a jar of sauce, olives, and several cans of tuna. She scrunched up her nose, pushed the tuna cans back in the pantry.

"Of course, sweetie. I love you too. Good night."

He joined her in the kitchen a few moments later, and she turned to look at him, her hip propped against the kitchen island. "Your daughter?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Needed to let her know I wouldn't be home tonight. She worries." He shrugged as if unaffected, but she didn't buy the act. Much as his publicity seemed to emphasize his 'womanizer' image, she could tell that he didn't spend many nights away from home.

"You're a good dad," she admitted. She liked this side of him, the quieter Richard Castle, the private persona that was so different from the image he presented to the world.

Their eyes met, and held, and her heart stumbled at the way his gaze traced her features. Then a grin gradually spread across his face, an eyebrow skating up. "Makes you want me, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "And there's the child again." But she couldn't help but smile, felt the tension dissolve between them, and her heart rate slowing down. She gestured at the open pantry.

"You good with spaghetti marinara for dinner?"

He nodded, and she bent down for a pot, winced as the movement twisted her back.

"Hey no, let me," he insisted, lifting the large pot from the cabinet, and while he ran water in it, Kate went outside to the small patch of garden behind the cabin. It mostly contained wild flowers that needed hardly any care, since no one in her family had time enough to come up here regularly, but there was a small patch with herbs growing haphazardly. She crouched down carefully, pinched a handful of fresh basil leaves off the stems.

He had the spaghetti boiling and the sauce heating up in a small saucepan when she came back inside, and the smell of stewed tomatoes was permeating the room. Her stomach growled. Kate moved to the stove next to him, started tearing the basil into pieces with her fingertips, letting the green flecks sail down into the sauce. Her hip brushed against the side of his leg and her midsection flared with heat. She glanced up at him, found him intently watching the movement of her fingers as she tore the fresh herbs, and then his gaze lifted, meeting hers.

She swallowed. "You, uh, changed?" It was an inane comment; the first thing that had popped into her head, and her voice sounded more breathless than it had any right to. She had meant to give him some of her father's clothes once they got here, but had completely forgotten once she found herself alone with him in the seclusion of this cabin, just her and him and the crickets in the woods. Instead of trousers and his sports coat, he was now wearing jeans and a faded, checkered flannel shirt that looked soft to the touch.

"Yeah, my get-away bag was in the car."

"You carry around a 'get-away bag'?"

"Hey, you never know when you might need to get away!"

She laughed, turning back toward the pot to stir the sauce. The movement twisted her back, and she couldn't hide the wince at the ache rattling along her spine.

"You're hurt, go sit down!" He took the spoon from her, and their fingers brushed, sparking warmth through her fingertips. "I'll finish this; it'll only be a few more minutes."

And because she had no answer to that, and her back really was hurting, she gave in to his suggestion and went over to the sofa. She let herself sink into the soft cushions that had molded to the shapes of bodies over the years, pulled her legs up as well, and watched the perpetual, soothing motion of the fan above. She didn't know how much time had passed, seconds or minutes, when she felt his fingertips against her shoulder.

"Here." He handed her a dishtowel in which he had wrapped a bag of frozen peas. "You should ice that."

She leaned forward, and he slid the makeshift ice pack against her spine. She sank back into it, felt the warmth of his fingertips, and the contrast of the chill from the cold pack prickling her skin. The relief it brought was almost instantaneous, and she sighed. He didn't return to the kitchen, he just stood by the side of the couch, and when she lifted her eyes to him, he was watching her.

"I'm so sorry I hurt you," he said, his voice laced with sorrow. It made her ache. She reached for his hand, brushed her thumb along his skin.

"It's okay," she said. "I'm fine. Just bruised, no big deal. You saved my life, Castle. Small price to pay."

He smiled, just a soft tilt of the corners of his mouth.

"Why do you call me that?"

"Call you what?"

"Castle. Instead of Rick, you call me Castle sometimes."

"Oh." She shrugged. "I hadn't really noticed. Force of habit, I guess. It's common among the detectives, the lawyers too. I mean, didn't everybody call Storm, 'Storm' too?"

He grinned, looking smug. "You really are a fan!"

She threw a sofa cushion at him. "Go finish dinner."

* * *

Kate twisted her first spoonful of spaghetti onto her fork, her mouth watering at the scent, when her phone rang. She groaned and swiped to answer.

"Hey Beckett, it's Ryan."

"Hey! Hang on, putting you on speaker." Kate placed the phone face-up on the table, and hit the speaker icon. "Can you still hear me?"

"Yeah, I hear you. Esposito is with me as well."

"Hey Esposito," she greeted the other detective.

A 'hey' piped back through the speaker in reply.

"So what's the news?"

"We scrubbed the security footage near the courthouse and were able to identify the guy who tried to shoot you," Ryan said.

"And you don't want to mess with that dude," Esposito added. Kate's chest tightened, and she closed her eyes, took a slow calming breath as she listened to the detective.

"We're pretty sure he's responsible for several shootings so far. Frankly he might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he's got really good aim, and hides his tracks well enough. We haven't been able to nail him on any potential victims."

She felt Castle's fingertips trace her wrist, his thumb stroking across her skin in a soothing rhythm, and her eyes fluttered open, meeting his across the table.

"He goes by Dan Holt; does that ring any bells?" Ryan asked.

"I've never heard that name," Kate answered. "That doesn't make any sense. I thought-" She fell silent, her mind racing.

"We haven't found a connection to you or to any of your cases yet," Ryan explained. "No known associates that match. But there's never been a connection to any of his prior victims either. Which makes us think he's either a sociopath, or a murderer-for-hire."

"A contract killer," Castle stated. His eyebrows were drawn together, the muscles straining in his neck.

"Very possible," the detective acknowledged. "We'll keep digging; we're looking into any of his known associates but so far we don't have much to go on."

"Listen, Beckett." The steely edge in Esposito's voice made her skin crawl. "This guy is no joke. We don't know where he is right now, so you need to be careful. Where are you?"

"My parents' cabin. Upstate."

"Does anyone else know you're there?"

"No. I haven't told my parents I was coming up here. It should be okay; the property is listed under my mother's maiden name so it's not easily connected to me."

"Okay. Stay there," Esposito instructed.

"I have to be back in court tomorrow by ten!" she protested.

"Then we'll send you a police escort to pick you up tomorrow. Text me the address."

Kate rubbed the stem of her nose. "Okay. Thanks, guys."

"Of course, Beckett," Ryan replied. The two said their goodbyes, and Kate hung up. She looked to Castle, and sighed as their eyes met and held for a long moment. His expression was somber, and it matched the way she felt. Her chest was tight, her mind endlessly circling, searching for answers that just wouldn't come.

Kate took her fork, stabbed it into her pasta a couple of times, halfheartedly twirling the tines through the food, then left it to clatter against the china.

"It makes no sense." Her voice carried an edge of panic.

"Sure it does." He gave a half-shrug, leaned back in his chair. "It's Tisdale. Has to be."

"Castle, I put criminals behind bars for a living! It could be anybody. Could be someone who holds a grudge or whose relative I've prosecuted. We need to figure this out based on the information we have. Not the evidence we need."

He leaned forward, a challenging gleam in his eyes. "Okay, any other contentious cases recently? Anyone yell at you, blame you, threaten you?"

"No," she admitted, chewing on her lip. "Not that I know of."

"There you go. Think about it: You went to question Tisdale alone. For more than six months, he thought he was getting away with the murders. He had it all wrapped and packaged up nicely."

"And then I walked in today, asking questions-"

Rick nodded, his voice dropping. "Concerning questions. Questions that make him wonder what you know. That make him worry. Otherwise why would you come sniffing around him all of a sudden?"

She leaned in. "As far as he knows, I'm the only one who has connected the dots of all three murders back to him."

"Exactly. So he thinks, if he moves quickly, the connection will be buried along with you, and no one would ever be able to trace it back to him. He figures he needs to find someone to do the job for him, and quickly. Doesn't have much time to find a killer, and it takes time to move around large amounts of money if you don't want to get caught. So he'll take what he can get; might not be the brightest, or the most expensive, but lethal just the same."

Her body thrummed as the narrative took shape. "A contract killer..."

"Yep." He nodded. "Not that hard to get when you know where to go, and have money. He probably dropped off some cash somewhere in an unremarkable black duffel bag." He scoffed at the dullness of the scenario, but said nothing.

"I'll text Ryan and Esposito to do some digging on Tisdale. Tell them about that possible second passport." She started typing, her thumbs flying over the keyboard. "Have them check his finances and accounts. Maybe they'll find a large withdrawal of cash made at some point today."

"It all fits." He nodded. "It's a good ending."

"Yeah except all we have are theories." Kate let her phone clatter onto the table. She pressed her hands to her head, digging her fingers into the pressure points beneath her ears. "We can't prove any of it, not the murder of his sister and the other two victims, and not the possible collusion to have me killed. I have nothing that I can present to the DA to drop the case. How can I go back to court tomorrow and prosecute Kyle when I know he's innocent?" Her fingers slid into her hair; she felt the urge to groan at the irritation that churned in her – with her job, with the whole system. With herself.

"You are an extraordinary woman, Kate Beckett."

"What?" Her eyes flew open, startled; she had to work to modulate her voice. "Why?"

"Because you care about doing the right thing." He tilted his head, his voice steady while his gaze mapped her face, his eyes a deep dark blue in the dim lighting in the cabin, hiding nothing. "You're not like any other prosecutors; you don't just want to win. The truth matters to you."

She shook her head. "It's not extraordinary. That's how it should be." She sighed, rubbed her eyes. They felt fatigued, burning and dry. "The truth is, I was upset when you called me out on it." Had that really only been yesterday morning? It felt like half a lifetime ago.

"Not because you had called me out, but because you were right. I have a hard job, and it's easy to lose sight of what matters when you're at it day after day. And I wonder whether I have become too callous. All I ever wanted was to make a difference, and to fight for what's right. But I think I was so focused on my goal that I sometimes forgot to try to aim for the small differences, to fix the little everyday things that I could."

"And what is your goal? What did little Kate Beckett want to be when she grew up?"

Her smile grew, her teeth grazing across her bottom lip. "The first female Chief Justice."

His own smile widened, eyebrows rising as he took her in. "Wow. Not bad! I can see that. You're smart, really good at your job, and you don't back down. You'd make a great Chief Justice."

She shook her head at him. "You don't know me, Castle."

"That could be changed." He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and it broke the tension between them, making her laugh. Her heart began to calm.

"Well. Thank you. I just... It drives me nuts that I have to sit here and wait for someone else to do the work, that I'm not able to... dig for the answers myself. To just do something." She fell silent, chewing on her lip; felt that restless impatience all the way into her fingertips. She picked up her fork, eating a few bites of her food. The warm nourishment settled her stomach.

"I shouldn't have walked away either," he said, and she looked over at him, found him deep in thought, his face drawn. "I keep thinking, if I had stuck around, if I had cared enough at the time to try to help those detectives, maybe it never would've come this far. I know my books, and maybe I would've noticed the discrepancies earlier. Maybe I could've made a difference too, and an innocent man wouldn't be on trial." He scoffed at himself, sunk back in his chair. "Sounds arrogant, doesn't it?"

She shook her head. "It's not arrogant, Castle." She hated hearing him sound so defeated. "Actually I think it's kind of sweet." Kate rose, and walked around to his side, leaning over him, her fingers trailing over the ball of his shoulder before she let her hand fall away, and he looked up at her, swallowing hard.

"You're a good man," she said, and she leaned down, pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, let her lips linger against his skin for just a moment.

"Good night, Rick."

* * *

She woke up parched. The book she had been reading earlier had fallen closed next to her, and she was lying on top of the covers, still wearing her clothes. She really needed a glass of water.

She lay still, listening for movement in the cabin, but all she heard was the wind outside and the sound of her own breathing. She swung her legs off the bed and padded out of her bedroom toward the kitchen.

She had expected to find the open space empty and dark, yet one table lamp was casting its beams through the living room, and Rick was seated on the couch, silhouetted in the glow. His face was illuminated in ghostly blue hues from the screen of the laptop sitting on his lap, his fingers flying across the keyboard without pause. Not wanting to break his focus, Kate tiptoed into the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator for the water pitcher. The seal peeled away and she froze at the sound, her eyes flicking toward the sofa.

He'd turned to her and their eyes met across the distance. The dark intensity of his gaze made her stomach flutter.

"Sorry," she whispered, cringing. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"You didn't," he replied.

"Liar," she teased, winking at him. He held her gaze for a long moment, and she felt him still watching her as she poured a glass of water. His blue eyes drew her in, even as her mind urged her to just turn and go back into her room. Despite the ball of nerves in her stomach, she found herself padding across the hardwood, her toes chilled from the cold floorboards, and sank down onto the sofa next to him. The cushion gave way beneath her, dipped her body closer to his. She sipped her water, hid behind the curtain of her hair that had fallen out from behind her ear, tickling the side of her face.

Castle hit a couple of keys, then sat the laptop next to him. Its blue glow sharpened his features, the cut of his cheekbones and the strong cords in his neck, the smudge of evening stubble along the jawline.

She watched him for a long moment.

"Why did you kill him? Derrick Storm?"

The question clearly surprised him, but he took it in stride. He tilted his head, regarded her thoughtfully.

"There were no more surprises," he said at last. He sounded saddened, resigned by it and yet as if it'd become an unimpeachable fact. It pained her to see, in a way she hadn't expected. It was so different from the self-assured man he'd presented to her, and to the world at large. There'd been rumors, on the fan-sites (not that she visited those a lot, of course), that he was blocked, that he hadn't written since he killed off his famous protagonist. She had wondered whether it was true until she had found him so focused on his writing.

"And now?" she asked. "You looked... inspired?"

He nodded, rested his side against the couch, his head leaning on the perch of his fist. There was a softness to him that surprised her, a slow smile chasing away the cloud of resignation that had hung over him.

"Yeah. By a tough, savvy, wickedly smart female ADA who secretly investigates crimes to see justice served."

"Me-?" She swallowed. "Why? Why would you write about me?"

"Because you're tall."

She couldn't help the smile that stole across her face, cutting through the tension.

"It's the mystery of you," he said next, and her heart fluttered at the naked admiration in his words, the serious timbre of his voice. "The depth of your strength, your heart... and your hotness."

She blushed, pulled her bottom lip between her teeth; noticed his eyes flicking to her mouth.

"You're not so bad yourself, Castle."

He smiled in response, his expression gentle, and hopeful, and a dozen more things she didn't have the courage to name. She wasn't sure anyone had ever looked at her quite like that before. Her body flushed with heat, and butterflies erupted in her stomach. He leaned in, a subconscious, almost imperceptible move and yet she was vividly aware of his presence, his scent and the sound of his breathing, his darkened eyes, the pressure of his knee against hers.

"It's getting late, I should-" She got up, fidgeting; didn't know what to do with her hands. "Night."

And then she fled into her bedroom, firmly closed the door behind her, shutting herself off from the temptation that was Rick Castle. Kate leaned back against the door, closed her eyes, her heart pounding in her ears. She couldn't get past the way he looked at her: the appreciation, the naked, unhidden interest.

She turned. Her heart in her throat, she closed her fingers around the door handle. She paused, took a deep steadying breath, and then she opened the door.

Rick Castle stood behind the couch, his eyes honing in on her. It took him only three long strides to make it from behind the sofa to where she had frozen in the doorway, and then he framed his hands to her face, and kissed her.

Her knees turned to liquid at the first caress of his lips, her mouth opening for him, folding herself into his kiss. Her fingers curled into the hair at the back of his neck as she sank into him, nipping his bottom lip with her teeth, then soothing the flesh with the tip of her tongue. He groaned, bracing her against the door.

"Ow," she hissed as her back crashed against the solid wood.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he murmured, leaned his forehead to hers. He trailed his fingers from the top of her neck down the length of her spine, slowly traveling the path of her bruise with such a soft touch that she heard herself whimper. Heat flared wherever he touched, setting her body on fire, the blood rushing in her ears. His hand skated beneath her shirt, the width of his palm settling against the curve of her back, and then he molded her against the solid form of his body, cradling her to him and kissing her again, softer this time, deep. Kate fumbled for the door handle, and fisted her fingers in his cotton shirt, tugging him with her into her bedroom.

She sank onto her bed, drawing him down with her. He settled on top of her, his body cradling hers, broad and solid and safe. He paused to look at her, his thumb caressing her cheekbone, tracing her bottom lip. Her breath caught at his touch, and she skated her leg up his thigh, hooked her knee over his hip, pulling him closer against her. She arched into him, loving the way his eyes fell shut at the sensation, the way his chest rose and fell with his rapid breathing, and this time it was she who kissed him, her lips worshipping his mouth as she let go of her tightly held control and gave herself up into the pleasure of his touch.

* * *

She woke to darkness, the kind she only ever encountered out here in the woods, away from most ambient sources of light, with only the shine of the moon and the stars as company. The leaves rustled in the breeze, whispering secrets, and cool night air snuck through the open window, danced along her skin, scattering goosebumps in its wake, chilling her toes. She shivered.

Next to her, Rick was breathing deeply, the heavy weight of his arm flung across her stomach anchoring her to the bed. Her stomach clenched, her mind turning over restlessly. What was the protocol, now that she'd slept with him? She could hardly sneak out; for one thing, this was her bedroom, and where would she sneak off to, stuck in the cabin in the middle of nowhere with him?

She could still feel the ghost of his touch lingering against her skin, the heat of his mouth, the width of his body, warmth unfurling inside her at the memories. It didn't feel like just any one-night stand, but she didn't exactly expect some kind of relationship either. He was a world famous best-selling novelist and she was just an ADA; on paper they made absolutely no sense. She felt unsettled; fidgeting, she tucked her leg back under the blanket, tried to turn onto her side. She was overthinking this, wasn't she? She was completely overthinking this.

As if he'd sensed her thoughts, Rick's fingers started sliding along her waist, his hand braced against her lower back, bringing her face to face with him. His eyes popped open, at once wide awake, stark black in the darkness, and his features brushed with silvery moonlight. His fingers tightened against her as he brought her in, brought her under, eyes locked with hers.

"Stop thinking so loudly."

"I wasn't-" But he cut off her protest with his lips, his mouth swallowing the last syllables as he kissed her, and for the second time that night Kate gave herself up to just feeling, stopped thinking of anything but the taste of his mouth and the dance of his fingertips over her skin.

* * *

She startled awake, her heart hammering in her chest. Kate held her breath, lay still, every muscle tensed, waiting.

She heard the wind whispering through the leaves, and the sounds of the world awakening by the first light of dawn, the vivacious abundance of nature. Yet she was certain she'd been awoken by something else, a sound that should not have been there - like the snap of twigs beneath a heavy boot.

"Castle," she whispered, rubbed her fingers over the ball of his shoulder, and down over his bicep, trying to nudge him awake. "Rick-"

"Don' get up yet," he murmured, sleep-drunk, his arm tightening around her to tug her more snugly against his side. "Stay in bed."

"Shh, Rick." She pressed her fingers over his mouth to keep him quiet. "Someone's here."


	5. Chapter 5

His eyes flew open; instantly alert, she could feel his body tense up beside her. "Wha-?"

"Outside," she whispered. Kate lay frozen, heart pounding and her body pressed unmoving to his side where he had tugged her against him. His flat breathing matched hers as they tried to listen through the cornucopia of sounds floating in through the open window. The day was breaking misty and pale and the woods were a wealth of bird song, of frogs and crickets and insects and the breeze as it rustled through the treetops.

Kate had almost convinced herself that she must've dreamt the noise that startled her awake when a branch snapped, a sound barely distinguishable through the ruckus of the woods waking for the day, and yet to her it seemed to crack through the air like lightning.

Their eyes met for a moment, widened with shock, and then they both leapt into action. Kate rolled herself out of the bed on her side; Castle slid out on the other. Crouched low, she pulled her t-shirt over her head, fumbled to find her panties, tugging them on once her fingers had reached them somewhere near the bed where they had haphazardly landed last night, and then she crawled toward the bedroom door on her hands and knees, trying to duck lower than the bottom edge of the window.

Rick came crawling around the bed toward her, wearing last night's flannel shirt and his boxers. His hair stood up at odd angles.

Some duo the two of them made, hoping to fight off an intruder in just their underwear.

"Where're you going?"

"Kitchen," she whispered her reply. "My gun's in my purse on the counter."

"You carry a gun? That is so hot."

"I put murderers behind bars; of course I carry a gun! Now shush!" She pressed her index finger over her lips to make the point. Kate did a quick mental assessment, silently thanking her mother who'd insisted she go to extensive self-defense classes that had taught her not only defensive moves, but also the logistics of escape. She realized they'd be pretty much sitting ducks whether they stayed in here or tried to make it to the kitchen. The bedroom would trap them, though, and they'd stand at least a better chance with her gun than without it. The benefits outweighed the risks of moving.

She couldn't be certain that the intruder wasn't already in the house, but the last sound they had heard had definitely come from outside the cabin, making it a reasonable assumption that he was either trying to gain access somewhere, or possibly lying in wait for her to stand within eyesight of a window, and shoot her from the outside. Kate edged her way over to the doorway, peeking through the gap.

The cabin was empty.

If only she hadn't left some of the windows open overnight; she felt so stupid not even having considered that they wouldn't be safe out here. At least they were all screened in, requiring a knife or some form of brute force to gain access. And she had locked the door when they came in last night, though it'd be a pitifully easy lock to pick.

"Stay down, along the wall," Kate instructed Rick, who was crouched down low behind her, and then she carefully edged her way through the bedroom door into the open space of the cabin. On their hands and knees they snuck along the west wall of the cabin, and with every forward advance she fervently hoped that the old wooden floorboards wouldn't creak too loudly, or that whoever was sneaking around didn't look through a window just at this moment and find them hunkered defenseless against a wall, as if they'd lined up for a firing squad. Her heart was pounding, and she could taste the adrenaline in her throat, metallic like blood.

They'd almost made it when a shot tore through the silence, a bullet hissing just past them.

"Whoa," Castle yelped, leaping behind the kitchen counter just in time as the bullet lodged into a kitchen cabinet door.

"You okay?" Kate called to him; her ears were ringing, and she could no longer tell how audible her voice was.

"Yeah." He nodded, and they pressed their backs against the kitchen island. His chest was heaving rapidly, matching her erratic breathing. They were well hidden - for now. The killer had definitely seen them take cover behind the island though, and there was no way to get a visual on the guy, no way to tell if and when he might be sneaking around inside the cabin until he'd surprise them - with a hail of bullets. And she still didn't have her gun. Crap.

"What now?" Rick whispered.

"The gun." At least she'd seen where on the counter she had set her purse last night. Kate turned to her knees, and reached just her fingertips over the countertop, feeling her way along the edge. The strap had to be there somewhere. At last the tip of her ring finger brushed against soft leather, and she risked reaching her hand higher to properly grasp it. She heard the bullet puncture the air above her head just as she got a hold on the strap and yanked, and her purse tumbled into her lap as she pressed herself snugly back against the island.

She was fairly certain that the killer would presume they were defenseless, hunkered behind the kitchen island. They were running out of time.

The grating noises coming from the door, the sound of metal scraping against metal as he tried to pick the lock, only underscored the urgency.

"He's moving," Castle whispered.

Kate nodded. "Trying to come in." Her heart pounded so hard, she had trouble keeping her hands steady. Kate dug the gun from her purse, took off the safety, and folded her hand around the handle as she had been trained in her classes. Except then it had only been silhouettes; she'd never before had to shoot at a live, moving target. Let alone one she couldn't even see or take any time to focus on.

She turned onto her knees, trying to rise. "Stay down," she pressed through her teeth, glancing at Castle.

"You stay down!" Rick growled at her, his fingers wrapped into the hem of her shirt to pull her back, his glare both angry and panicked. He looked like she felt.

"I can't shoot him from down here."

"Well, he can't shoot you either."

She sat back down. "What else are we going to do? Right now he doesn't know we're armed, so we have the advantage, but I'll need a clean shot for that, and I can't see him from down here. The moment I'll look, he'll shoot."

"We'll need a diversion."

She nodded.

The door hinge squeaked. He was inside. Kate pressed back against the island, saw Rick do the same.

Rick pressed his index finger to his lips to signal silence, and then he scooted forward, toward the small wine cabinet. Fear clawed at her; she felt the panic swell through her, wanted to yell at him, drag him back. What the hell was he trying to do, was he trying to get himself killed?

She watched him pull a champagne bottle from the cabinet, then scoot back against the island next to her. He was vigorously shaking the bottle, gesturing at its cork and miming a gun with his thumb and index finger, and before she'd even really processed any of what he was trying to communicate, before she could utter a word of protest, he was crawling toward the other side of the island.

"Now!" he yelled, the cork shot through the air, and Kate jumped up, aimed, and fired.

* * *

The man yelped, reflexively grabbing his bicep while his gun clattered to the floor. Castle sprinted toward the doorway and tackled him to the ground; Kate raced to his side, kicked the gun across the room. Rick was kneeling on the man's back, pressing his wrists onto the floor; blood spilled from the killer's wound onto the hardwood floor.

"Nice shot."

"I was aiming for his head," she admitted. The bullet had grazed the intruder's arm, and Kate suspected he merely had a flesh wound; they had been incredibly lucky that the pain had startled him enough to momentarily lower his defenses.

She dashed back into the kitchen, dug through the 'crap drawer' to find something to use as a restraint. She hurried back to Castle, holding a spool of thin nylon rope. Together they bent his arms over to his back, hog-tying him by the wrists and ankles while he struggled and cursed.

"We make a pretty good team," Castle nodded, eyeing the result of their work as the attacker lay packaged like a parcel at their feet. "Like Lennie Briscoe and Jack McCoy!"

She grinned. "You realize _you_ are not actually a detective, right?"

"Don't ruin my story with your logic."

* * *

The ride back to the city had been conducted mostly in silence. Kate watched Rick from the passenger seat as he drove, his car sandwiched between the ambulance that held her would-be killer, and the protective detail that Ryan and Espo had sent to escort them back to the 12th Precinct.

They'd thrown their clothes on and hurried to get on the road, and once the adrenaline rush had subsided, they were stuck in the awkward reality of what had happened between them.

When their empty small talk had given way to quiet tension, Kate turned and watched the world fly by outside the window. If she hadn't been there herself, if she didn't still feel the phantom of his touch against her skin, she'd wonder if it had even happened at all or whether it had all been a dream.

Once arrived at the precinct they separated to give their individual statements, and then he seemed to disappear. Until she saw him in the break room of the Homicide floor, sipping on a cup of coffee.

"This is quite possibly the worst coffee I've ever tasted." His nose was scrunched in disgust. "It tastes like a monkey peed in battery acid."

She held back a chuckle, as Detective Esposito walked in to join them. She'd been waiting for him; she had to be back in court soon, her stomach growing more nervous with every passing minute.

He sat across from her, as Castle abandoned his cup of monkey pee and plopped himself down next to Kate on the lumpy couch, tilting the cushion just enough to have her dipping toward him. She felt his arm brush against hers, leaving a point of heat on her skin that traveled through her body in a slow permeating flush.

"So. We finished questioning Dan Holt. In exchange for a lighter charge, he has admitted that he was hired to kill you. Says he doesn't know the name of the guy who hired him; he got a call on his 'business' burner phone to set up the transaction, and then requested his payment and instructions to be dropped off in a bus station locker of his choosing. He still had the envelope so we're going to run it for prints."

"So we still don't know who hired him?" Kate asked.

"Actually, we do. Turns out our contract killer is somewhat untrusting." His lip quirked. "Imagine that... So he monitors his bus locker before a transaction to get a visual of who hired him. And guess who he picked out from a photo lineup?"

"Harrison Tisdale!" they replied in unison.

"Bingo," Espo said, raising an eyebrow. "Contestants score five points!"

"Okay, so we can tie Tisdale to my attempted murder, and circumstantially we presume he tried to have me killed because of hiding his guilt in the murder of his sister and the two others - but can we actually prove any of it? I need to get something tangible I can present to the judge, and the D.A.!"

"I think I can help with that." Detective Ryan walked into the room. "Guess who we just picked up as he was trying to flee?" Ryan pointed out the window that opened to the precinct bullpen, and they watched a snarling Harrison Tisdale being led through the hallway, hands cuffed behind his back.

"You got him?"

"We got him!" The detective walked farther into the room. "Went over there this morning, just to ask some friendly questions, you know, and there he was trying to shred a bunch of documents. When we caught him at it, he tried to make a run for it. But we found this!" Ryan held up a plastic evidence bag with a berry-colored European Union passport in it.

"The second passport!"

"Yep. Signed, sealed, delivered, he's yours."

"Why would he even keep that?" Castle mused.

"Who knows." Esposito shrugged. "Maybe in case he needed to do it again? He thought he got away with murder once; no reason for him to believe he couldn't do it again if the situation warranted it."

"Okay, I need that info. How quickly can you get me a hard copy?" Kate consulted her watch, saw the minutes rushing toward 10:00 A.M.; barely enough time to make it over to the court.

"Already on it," Espo nodded. "Karpowski out there is working on it as we speak." He pointed outside to a desk where a woman with a wild head of curls was frantically typing and checking her print-outs.

"Need a ride?" Ryan asked. "Lights and sirens?"

"Yes, actually," she nodded. "That's probably the only way I'll still make it in time. You sure you can do that?"

"For you, Beckett? Anytime. You caught a contract killer. That counts for something in our book." He nodded, fist-bumped with Espo before he headed for the door. "See you downstairs in five."

* * *

Castle was waiting by the side of the building when she stepped out of the 12th Precinct, the folder full of the information she would need to present to the judge safely tucked in her briefcase. He turned for her and Kate stepped closer, but the distance between them still felt insurmountable.

They had kissed and they had slept together; they had been almost killed, together, and yet they hadn't talked about any of it. Distance had stretched between them, questions had lapsed into silence, and she had no clue what they were to each other.

"You need to head to court now?" he asked. It was more statement than question. She nodded.

"Yeah. And you? Need to head home?" She swallowed around the lump that had formed in her throat. "See your daughter?"

"Yeah." He glanced at her, and she couldn't read him at all.

Kate didn't know what to say, felt tongue-tied with the whirl of thoughts in her head. What would she even want to say? It had been great; _they_ had been great together, but maybe that was all it was ever going to be?

She and Castle were from different worlds. Multimillionaires didn't date public servants, and weren't relationships built on dramatic experiences doomed to fail anyway?

Just because they had slept together didn't necessarily mean anything other than just that. Maybe she really had been just another one of his conquests, and now that she'd given in, his interest was just... fading away? And that was okay, wasn't it? She had been well aware of what she was getting herself into, and she didn't regret one moment of it. It'd been fun, and if that was all there ever was, it had been worth it.

"You think you have enough for the charges against Kyle to be dropped?" His voice broke through the confusion of her mind and she nodded, scuffed her foot against the sidewalk, her hair curtaining her face when she glanced up at him.

"Hopefully."

"You got this, Kate." Their eyes met at last, and there was such assurance in his gaze that it bolstered her confidence. He still believed in her, and it made her heart leap and her skin tingle. It made her want things, made her want to reach for whatever this was between them, to grab hold of it and not let go again.

"Thank you. I never could've solved this without you, Castle, and..." Her heart was racing, her stomach flipping with nerves. "I'm just gonna say this... I've had a really good time."

"Yeah," he smiled, "me too."

"And-"

She startled at a sudden car horn, twisted around, and found that it was Detective Ryan waiting for her.

"I really need to go-" She turned back to Castle, her blood throbbing in the pulse point of her neck. She wanted to say things, she wanted _him_ to say things, and she didn't know what those things were. Silence stretched between them and it sounded like the confirmation of her conclusions.

"So I guess this is it?" she said.

He swallowed, his expression stiffening into a carefully neutral mask. It hurt, like a fist to her solar plexus. She hadn't meant to sound so final, hoped against hope that he didn't want that either.

"I guess it is." He stepped closer, leaning in, and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. "It was nice to have met you, ADA Beckett."


	6. Chapter 6

"What's the matter with you, Katie? You've barely eaten. Don't think I didn't notice that you were only pushing the food around your plate. What's going on?"

"Oh Mom," Kate sighed, dropped her head into the cradle of her arms on the table. Her mother stepped closer, ran her hand over Kate's back in soothing circles.

"Is it your case?"

"No," she ground out from beneath the cocoon of her arms. She had actually withstood the fallout surprisingly unscathed. The judge had agreed that all charges against Kyle Cabot be dropped, and when Kate had presented the DA with the evidence on Harrison Tisdale's multiple crimes, he was so eager to avoid the publicity nightmare, so fearful of the political embarrassment, that he was quick to overlook the specifics on how the truth had been uncovered, and her involvement in it.

"Come on, help me do the dishes while we talk."

Kate nodded and got up, noticing how her mother must've deftly maneuvered her father from the kitchen as he was nowhere to be seen. Which meant her mom had planned this little attack, since her dad was the one who usually handled the clean-up after Sunday brunch.

They stacked dishes together and carried them over to the sink; Johanna started rinsing and handed the pieces to Kate, who loaded them into the dishwasher.

"So what's his name?"

Kate startled, almost dropped the slippery plate she was holding. "How did you-?"

"I know you, sweetheart. I recognize that look on your face. So? Who is it?"

Kate sighed, leaned her hip against the kitchen counter. "Richard Castle."

"Richard Castle, the author? The, and I quote, 'arrogant, self-centered idiot who ruined your case'?"

"I slept with him." Crap, she hadn't meant to say that. Why had she said that? Too much honesty at 11:00 on a Sunday morning, and with her _mother,_ of all people.

"And? Was it that bad?"

"Mom! No, it's... I..." She growled, ran her fingers through her hair, frustrated with her inability to form a coherent sentence when it came to Rick Castle. She felt like she was seventeen again, caught out by her mother after the first time she'd had sex. But this wasn't anything like that. For one thing, in hindsight, that really had been bad.

"It was good," she sighed. "Amazing. _He_ is amazing."

Her mom tilted her head to look at her, really took her in. "You really like him." It wasn't a question. Johanna had always been uncannily perceptive when it came to her daughter.

Kate nodded.

"Then what's the problem?"

"Everything! I..." She scuffed her feet along the floor, watched her toes draw circles on the tiles. "I think I made a really stupid mistake."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing! That's the problem. I didn't _do_ anything. I just stood there, letting him walk away! I couldn't get my thoughts out right, and then I said something that I didn't even mean and-" She trailed off on a sigh.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing. He just accepted it, and walked away."

"So go tell him. Fix it!"

"I can't just... What if..." She deflated, all her concerns a confusing whirl in her mind. It'd really been fun to solve this case with him - to banter and argue, to just sit and talk, to laugh. Prior to this past week, she had become so wrapped up in her work that by the end of each day all she did was go home where it was quiet. And she'd been so tired of quiet. She'd wanted... loud.

And then Rick Castle had strutted into her life, and she had felt more alive with him than she had in a long time. Beneath the front he put on for the world, Rick was kind and smart and he made her laugh, and it'd been a long time since she'd felt so desirable, and not just for her looks but for her mind, her intelligence, her thoughts; for all of who she was.

"What if this isn't what he wants? We didn't talk about it, it just happened, and it's not like he made any promises. I walked into this with my eyes wide open, and no expectations beyond the moment." She sighed. "But now... He's this famous, multi-millionaire novelist, and I'm just a lawyer, a public servant. We come from completely different worlds; we make no sense together. How could that ever work out?"

"Goodness Katie, are you wanting to date him, or ask him to marry you and bear him ten children? Why are you getting about twelve steps ahead of yourself? Take it one at a time; ask your questions! What do you have to lose?"

"Everything! He could say no! And I would make a complete fool of myself."

"You'd get over that," her mom dismissed with a shrug. "And so what if he does say no? At least you'd know the answer. But what if it is a yes? Isn't it worth it to find out? If you don't ask, you'll never know the answers."

"He may break my heart." She knew he'd have the power to, knew from the moment he first kissed her. Maybe even before that.

"Or you may break his."

She chewed on her lip. "I'm afraid," she admitted in a whisper, feeling like a child all over again. This was ridiculous; she was an adult, why did it all feel so scary?

"Oh Katie." Johanna wrapped her in her arms, and Kate curled into her mom, snuggled her face to the curve of her neck.

"You fell in love! Of course you are afraid. Rejection hurts, and putting yourself out there like that is always scary. But sweetheart-" Her mom took her by the shoulders, setting them apart so she could look at her. Johanna cradled her daughter's face, her thumb caressing her cheek. Kate leaned into the touch, blinking away an errant tear.

"Risking our hearts is why we're alive! The last thing you want is to look back on your life and wonder, if only."

* * *

"Research?!" She stopped cold, alerted to the volume of her exclamation only by the number of heads that had snapped up in the open office, staring at her from their cubicles.

With the phone pressed to her ear she stood frozen in place, could barely follow what the D.A. was droning on about after the bombshell he had just dropped on her. Kate pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose, closed her eyes for a brief moment.

"Yes, sir," she ground out when he had paused in his monologue at last. "Okay. Let me call you back." She hung up. The hand clamped around her phone sank to her side as if in slow motion.

Everyone was still watching her with bold curiosity, and with one look at Jessi's contrite face, Kate knew without a doubt what to expect in her office - or rather, who. Despite her exasperation, her breathing grew erratic, and nervous flutters spread through her body. She glared at Jessi for good measure, and proceeded into her office, slammed the door closed behind her.

"Richard Castle!"

He swiveled around in her office chair, grinning at her, pleased and self-satisfied - as if he hadn't just upended her entire professional career - again.

"You have to do _research_?" She marched around her desk, hands on her hips as she faced him.

He nodded, one cocky eyebrow raised as he smirked at her, the spark of a challenge in his eyes. "For my tough, savvy, crime-fighting lawyer. You know it _is_ vital that I get the details just right. As a writer, I need to gain more insights into how she works, how she thinks." Kate rolled her eyes. He tugged at the bottom of her suit jacket and she stumbled a step forward, coming to rest with his knees framing her legs and her hands braced to his forearms. Her breathing hitched at his proximity, his scent filling her senses, already so familiar to her, arousing. She saw his eyes turn a shade darker, his pupils dilating as he looked up at her. "What she likes..."

His palms wandered over her hips, framing her waist, and she exhaled sharply through her nose. "You couldn't have just asked me out instead?"

"Where's the fun in that?" he grinned, wiggled his eyebrows.

"If you think there's no fun in that you've been dating the wrong people."

"You're right. I have." He stood suddenly, wrapped an arm around her waist, hauling her against him. "Kate Beckett, would you let me take you out on a date?"

"Hmm, I don't know..." She pretended to think about it, her lips pursed around the smile she couldn't hide. She felt flushed, alight with possibility while his fingertips played at her neck, tracing the vertebrae. "How much of it is going to end up as pulp for your fiction?"

"My book will be a work of fiction," he recited with theatrical detachment. "All names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents will be the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events will be purely coincidental."

She snorted a laugh. "Riiiiiiight."

"Come on, Kate," he murmured. The rough timbre of his voice sent shivers down her spine, desire unspooling low and languid in her midsection. "Say yes. It's gonna be great."

She let him stew a bit, humming a drawn-out sound while he tucked her tighter against his body, leaving no space between them. Her heart raced as his hand traced her waist, found his way beneath her shirt to meet the silky skin of her lower back. Warmth sprawled where he touched, flushing heat into her limbs, her cheeks, the tips of her ears.

Kate deliberately flicked her gaze from his eyes to his mouth, and back to his eyes, grazing her teeth along her bottom lip. Leaning in, she bypassed his mouth, instead put her lips close to his ear and whispered, "You have no idea."

And then she kissed him.

* * *

"Mmm," she hummed into the kiss. His lips were soft against hers, tender and loving.

He whispered her name. "Kate. Open your eyes, Kate." But she didn't want to, she wanted more kissing.

"Time to wake up-"

She opened her eyes, her eyelids feeling heavy. "Wha-" Her throat was dry. She focused on Rick, who was leaning over her; focused on his familiar smile, the warmth in his gaze, the dark stubble on his chin and the morning-mussed hair. "Hey, it's you," she slurred. Her husband. His palm was cradling the side of her face, a thumb softly stroking her cheekbone, and she relaxed into his touch, tried to get her bearings.

"We'll need to start getting ready so we won't be late."

"Oh right." Kate attempted to sit up, and Rick helped hoist her onto her feet, bracing her elbows until she was steady.

"Whoa, you're still sleep-drunk. You okay?"

"Yeah I'm okay. Just a... weird dream." She felt fuzzy. "I think."

"Good-weird, or walking-down-5th-Avenue-stark-naked-while-playing-the-harp-weird?"

"Good-weird. It was- Wait, what?" She turn to look at him. "How do you even come up with this stuff?"

He shrugged, grinning. "I don't know; it's a gift!"

She shook her head at him affectionately. "Anyway. It was interesting. Just felt... incredibly real. You would've liked the story."

"Oh nice. Tell me?"

So she relayed the narrative as they were getting ready for their day, sharing the bathroom, moving around each other in practiced rhythm.

"Castle, for the twelfth time," she exclaimed from beneath the spray of the shower when he wouldn't let it go. "I was not thrown into an alternate universe! It was just a dream."

"That's what they want you to think. Anyway, I'm glad you chose to come back to me."

"Of course!" She stuck her head out of the shower to see him, making eye contact. "Of course, Rick. Always."

He smiled, happiness infusing his whole face at her words. No matter how often they said it, it never lost its power. Warmth welled through her, tingling along her limbs. She loved him so much, her ridiculous, kind, smart, amazing husband.

"See Beckett, even your subconscious knows that we were meant to be. Fate, magic, all that good stuff."

"There's no such thing as magic, Castle." She lifted her eyebrows in challenge.

"I beg to differ," he said, stepping closer. He cradled her plump belly with his palms, leaning down to kiss where their baby nestled beneath, murmuring to her wet skin. "This here, this is magic."

Kate curled her fingers into his hair as he kissed her stomach, tugging up his head until she could kiss him languidly. "You're a sweet man, Richard Castle," she murmured, kissing him again, and then she stepped back into the shower, tilting her head under the water to rinse the conditioner from her hair.

Kate smiled to herself as the warm water sluiced down her body, rivulets curving around her stomach where their baby kicked and wiggled vivaciously.

She supposed she believed in fate after all.

* * *

Morningside Campus was alive with the chatter of thousands as people slowly found their seats, a humming beehive of voices, exuberant with cheers and chants and boisterous laughter.

It had been a cold and rainy spring, but today the sun shone brightly, infusing the still-cool air with warmth and dazzling the city skyline with flecks of sparkling gold. As if it knew to highlight the joy of this day, to brush it with radiant hope.

Castle held her arm, supporting her balance as they made their way along the grass, threading through the rows upon rows of chairs to find seats. They stopped in the aisle for a moment, looking out over the bobbing sea of Columbia University graduates. Among them, amid the waves and ripples of light blue caps and gowns, was a smart, lively redhead, and Kate could practically feel Rick's chest expand with pride.

"So she's going to stay with the P.I. business?"

"Yeah," Rick nodded, pointed at their row with a few empty seats and guiding her forward. "She'll work through the summer full-time, and then she and I will revisit the discussion in the fall. I can't officially gift her the business until she's 25, as you know, but if she sticks it out, and if this is what she really wants to do, I'll support it."

"Yes, plus she's actually really good at it." Kate stopped, declaring, "These seats are good."

"Dad!" They heard Alexis squeal, and turned for her voice. The young woman came rushing toward them in a blur of blue fabric, her hair shimmering like copper in the sun. She flew into her father's arms and Rick caught her, wrapped his arms around her back while she buried her face against his chest.

"I'm so proud of you, Pumpkin," Kate heard him murmur to his daughter, "so proud." He ran his hands up and down the young woman's back, blinked at the sheen of tears that was forming at his eyes while he held his child. Kate felt her heart squeeze with emotion, with the joy and the honor of getting to be a part of this important moment.

"Thanks, Dad." Alexis smiled up at him when they pulled apart at last. Her clear blue eyes rivaled the color of her gown, sparkling with both pride and wonder. "I made it!" she squealed, almost bouncing with joy, and then she flung herself in his arms once more.

"I love you, Daddy," she sighed, and Kate heard his soft reply, "I love you too, Alexis."

And in the next moment Alexis's slim arms were wrapped around Kate, the girl carefully hugging her around the circumference of her stomach.

"Kate, you came!"

"Of course, Alexis. I wouldn't have missed it," Kate said, running her hands down Alexis's hair, sifting her fingers through the soft strands for a long moment.

"But it's your due date today," the young woman stated once they had loosened their embrace. "I couldn't be sure that you'd make it until the moment I saw you. Even though Dad kept texting me about it all morning." Alexis chuckled, rolled her eyes affectionately.

Kate laughed. "Maybe your sister knew how important today was, and decided to wait just a little while longer so that I could be here to see you graduate."

"Thank you Kate. That means a lot to me." Then she looked down, stroked the side of Kate's belly. "And thank you too, Lily. But now after today, could you please come out already so we can meet you?"

Lily answered by kicking against Alexis's hand, and the women grinned at each other. "Your word in Lily's ear," Kate sighed.

"Will Kyle be joining us?" Castle asked.

"Oh, yes. Of course." Alexis nodded. Her smile widened, her eyes sparkling with the infatuation of young love. "He said he'd be here in about fifteen minutes. Can you save him a seat?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

Alexis looked around. "So where's Grams?"

"She should be here any minute," Rick explained. "She's with Meredith; they stopped to grab some waters."

"Grams and Mom together, unsupervised? That's a scary thought."

Rick laughed. "Yeah, let's just say in the interest of a certain Columbia graduate, they have buried the hatchet - just for today."

Alexis grinned, and Kate watched father and daughter interact, couldn't help but envision what it would be like to watch him with Lily. Another little girl to cherish and protect and raise until they'd all gather together again like this, watching her graduation. Rick was a great father; of that, she had no doubt. She only hoped she'd figure out how to be a good mother. Sometimes it still seemed so surreal. And then Lily pushed against her ribs, reminding her how real it was, how tangible, how very near.

"Oh, I have to go assemble with my school now," Alexis said. "Hey Kate, could you-?" She held up a couple of bobby pins.

"Of course." She took the hairpins while Alexis placed the blue mortar board she'd been carrying on her head, and then Kate slid her fingers into Alexis's soft hair, securing the cap with the pins.

"Thanks," she smiled. "I'll see you guys after?" They nodded in reply and the young woman first kissed Kate on the cheek, then her father, before she hurried back out of the aisle, the light blue graduation gown billowing in the breeze.

Their small family sat side by side, watching the graduating students file in, followed by the faculty, the school flags shifting in the breeze; listened to the songs performed, the inspirational words of the commencement speaker, and the encouragement from the university Dean.

The Dean directed the graduating class to rise, to turn and find their families in the seats behind them and give thanks, and they found their daughter in the crowd, Alexis waving wildly at them, her smile so full of joy, so bright it rivaled the sun.

Kate folded her hand into Rick's, squeezing his fingers when the students rose in unison to be conferred their degrees.

"By the virtue of the authority vested in me by the trustees of Columbia University," the Dean declared, his voice carrying in booming echoes. "I admit you to the degrees and certificates for which you have been recommended. Congratulations, Class of 2017!"

The crowd cheered, the noise swelling across the campus grounds, and Kate glanced at her husband, saw him blink back his tears, and the mix of pride and melancholy in his smile.

Their daughter had graduated.

* * *

 _Episode beta work by acertainzest, amtepe, and ivyandtwine._

 _Castle Season 9 is produced by Team Planet and the writing team of Castle Season 9_ _. Executive Producer is acertainzest._

 _For a full list of Season 9 authors, please look at our ffnet profile._

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